Case 9764: The Murder of Lenora Stafford
by Dr. Phoenix
Summary: When one of Dawson's sisters is poisoned by criminals, she refuses to seek her brother's help, not wishing to lead the felons straight to him. As her life gradually slips away from her, she recalls her childhood and has visitors she hasn't seen for years.
1. Chapter 1

"Well, if it isn't Basil's sister-in-law!"

Turning toward the voice, I see a mouse in a striped shirt and stocking cap. I must question his wisdom in lighting his cigar. He smells so much like brandy that it's a wonder he doesn't go up in flames.

"I'm not Cliff's wife!" I retort. "How then could I be Basil's sister-in-law?! Now, if you'll excuse me…"

As I turn to go about my business, two more ruffians step in front of me.

"Everyone knows that fat doctor's almost like a brother to him!" one states. "And you're Dawson's sister! That means you know Basil rather well!"

I roll my eyes, wishing I were more surprised by their blatant ignorance. "Everyone knows Basil, dimwit! Half of Mousedom owes him their lives, and the other half risks arrest by evidence he produces!"

"There's only one thing Basil likes more than his violin!" the second criminal continues.

"His ego? His depression? His chemistry set? His housekeeper?" I shrug. "This conversation is nowhere near earning a place on the list of the most intelligent discussions I've ever had, so if you'd be so kind as to stop wasting my time, I have a real life."

As I turn to leave, two of the thugs seize me by the arms. Very well. If they wish to fight, so be it. I have three brothers. I know how to use my elbows and knees in a fight. I have no problem revealing my ankles when I kick.

In no time at all, the thugs release me. I refuse to let them see me run, but I quicken my gait as I walk away. They won't be defeated for long. I must be on my way before they…

Suddenly I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder. It stings worse than the most dreadful of insects, and the burn is a deeper pain than touching flame. Placing a hand on my injured shoulder, I immediately feel an impaled object, which I remove. I see now that I have been hit with a dart, no doubt dipped in some toxin or the other.

"After all these years, I can still hit a moving target!" one of the criminals jubilates.

"If she takes time to go to the police, she'll die," another comments. "She has no choice but to get medical help within fifteen minutes if she wants to survive."

"I don't understand," the third ruffian complains. "All she has to do is see a doctor who isn't her brother. Dawson's not the only doctor in Mousedom, you know."

"He's the closest, you fool! He's also the only one who knows the antidote for what we dip our darts in! She has no choice but to get help from little brother David!"

The other mouse chuckles. "And when she does, we'll kidnap him and use him as bait to capture Basil!"

Those fools! Did no one ever tell them the first rule about perfecting a crime is not to announce your plans where other rodents can hear them?!

What they say is true. David's the only physician in Mousedom who would be able to help me survive this manner of toxin, but I'll be hanged if I let a gang of lowlifes force me to endanger my brother!

My arm is already starting to swell. In addition to the anguish I already feel, now the wound is beginning to throb. I must act quickly. What shall I do?

I suppose I could simply go to Baker Street. The ruffians wouldn't dare attack David in his own home, not with Basil living there. Yes, of course! It's brilliant! Their plan is to separate David from Basil, but…

But Basil's spending the day visiting his aging mother. If the criminals follow me to Baker Street, they'll find out Basil isn't home. I can't let them find David by himself.

There's nothing to do but resign myself to my fate. I silently give thanks that my husband is at work and my children are at school. I won't have to see the worried looks on their faces. Slipping through my front door, I painstakingly write what happened, explaining that this was most certainly not an act of taking my own life. I remember to write a description of the criminals, where they attacked me, and that the dart they used is now in my bureau. I explain that Basil must arrest these men at once before they have the chance to harm David. I write why I did not seek help, for I could not see my brother fall into the hands of these wastes of oxygen.

Darkness is beginning to close in, a terrifying black shadow. I don't mention it in my letter to my family. I make up some lie about how it didn't hurt at all; I simply fell asleep. Honesty is the best policy, unless you're trying to comfort someone a final time from your deathbed. However, when I write how much I love them, that is no lie.

Having written my explanation and expressed my love a final time to my husband and children, I struggle to write a few sentences each to my brothers and sisters. Writing is difficult; my entire arm is stiff, but I have to work through it. I'm running out of time. I must finish quickly.

I write the last word and place the letter on my nightstand. There's barely enough time to change into my favorite dress. Sinking to my knees but still fighting for my life, I manage to put a few cosmetics on my face. My fingers fumble with the clasp of Mother's necklace, but I finally slip it around my neck. I am determined to look beautiful when I die. Why should my family see the colors of death on my face? Why should they see any sign that I struggled so hard for my final moments of life? Let them think my transition into the spirit realm was easy and that I slipped off gracefully. It will bring them a great deal of peace of mind.

Lying on my bed, I try to think of happier things, but all I see is my life flashing before my eyes. It won't be long now. I wonder about Daniel. Will he be surprised to see me? It doesn't matter. I can ignore my anguish. It will all be over soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Although the young woman's hands were shaking terribly, she managed to pin up her hair. It would have made far more sense to cut it, but she was unable to bear the thought of parting with her beautiful tresses.

"Eleanor, do be reasonable," Blanche pleaded.

Eleanor shook her head. "I love you all dearly, but I have to do this." She put on one of her father's hats. "How do I look?"

"Perfectly foolish!" Genevieve crossed her arms. "Mother would be furious to see you dressed in men's clothing! You don't look at all like a proper lady! Furthermore, Father specifically forbade you to go to the university. Mark my words, Eleanor Davis! You'll come crawling back on your hands and knees, begging society's forgiveness for your folly!"

Without a word, Eleanor picked up a suitcase in each hand. She knew her sisters were only looking out for her best interests, and if she thought about it, she realized her parents were right. After all, who ever heard of a woman becoming a doctor? What was next, a woman who practiced law? The idea was utterly absurd!

She didn't have much time. Her parents wouldn't spend all day calling on their friends. In fact, they should be home in time for tea. She needed to leave immediately or wish forever she hadn't wasted her chance.

Making her way through the crowded streets at a brisk gait, she soon arrived at the train station, waiting only a few minutes before she was able to be seated on a train. She wondered what her grandparents would have thought if they had known how she was traveling, for the railway had not been invented in their time. Even her parents remembered a time not long ago when trains had not yet come into being.

Almost before she realized what was happening, the train came to a stop. She was now within walking distance of the university that was to be her new home as she began to build a life. Her stomach felt like knots of fire tied around a sinking boulder, and her palms were drenched in sweat.

There it was, this looming building in front of her. She managed a polite smile as she approached the administration desk and showed the necessary paperwork, answering questions with a nod or a shake of the head. Finally, she was shown to her room, which she was promised would be peaceful because she only had to share it with one other student.

At last she was left alone in her room. Although she knew she should begin unpacking at once, she threw herself onto the bed and began sobbing. What had she had done?! Why had such an idea ever crossed her mind?! Hearing footsteps in the hallway, she quickly dried her eyes, turning to face the wall as she struggled to regain her breath. The door opened.

"Are you alright?" a voice asked kindly.

She made no response.

"You're Daniel Simmons, right?"

Eleanor nodded without turning around.

"I'm Denis Dawson." He sighed. "I always thought it sounded ridiculous to have the first letter of your given name be the same as that of your surname, so I hope if I ever get married, we don't have another Denis or a Denise in the family."

Eleanor took a deep breath, attempting to steady her nerves before deepening her voice. "Delighted to make your acquaintance, my dear Mr. Dawson."

"Likewise, Mr. Simmons." He paused before adding, "Don't worry. I won't let anyone know you're homesick. It'll just be a secret between us."

She nodded and turned to face him, instantly regretting the fact that she had to fool society into believing she was a young man, for Denis Dawson had a handsome face as well as a kindly manner.

"What brings you to the university, Mr. Dawson?"

"Law." There was a spark of determination in his eyes. "I don't approve of the segregation. Wealthy mice have all the rights, and the poor or members of other species have no legal rights whatsoever. When I am a judge, I will sentence for crimes, not caring a whit about species or economic status. Anyone in need of justice can come to me for help."

Eleanor smiled. "When I am a physician, I won't care about species or economic status either."

The pair became fast friends. However, Eleanor remembered she had to hide her gender from her roommate, which was difficult at first, but she gradually became accustomed to it. Since they were to graduate the same semester, they spent years sharing a room. Finally, the week of graduation arrived, but Eleanor found herself summoned before administration.

"Daniel Simmons, we have evidence to suggest you are a woman. We made some enquiries and found out that when you arrived at our university, a young woman disappeared from your neighborhood. You must understand that we simply cannot allow a woman to receive a doctorate of medicine. Now pack your things and leave this university at once."

Eleanor was heartbroken. She had come so far! If only her secret could have remained hidden for only one more week, she would have received her doctorate and been able to help those in need! She was just stepping out when Denis returned from class, perplexed by the suitcases in her hand.

"What troubles you, my friend?" he asked gently. "Come on. You can tell me. I'm going to be a judge soon. You know you can trust me, right?"

Bursting into tears, Eleanor told him the entire story while his eyes grew wider and wider in bewilderment. When she had finished, he shook his head.

"I'm a fool!" Denis exclaimed. Seeing her frown in confusion, he continued, "Here I've had a beautiful young lady as my dearest friend for years, and I never once thought to ask her out to dinner." He tentatively took her hand, and as she offered no resistance, he pulled her into a hug. "Eleanor, I give you my word as Judge that within six months, you shall have your doctorate. Mousedom needs you."

Eleanor smiled. "You don't need to give me your word as Judge. Your word as my friend is enough."

When she arrived back home, Eleanor was welcomed by her family, who had long since come to accept, and even admire, her defiance of social norms and her determination to follow her heart. True to his word, the newly appointed Judge Denis Dawson brought Eleanor's doctorate before six months had passed. However, there was one major error.

"My last name is Davis," she reminded him.

"Yes, that's what it says," he replied.

"The name on this paper is Eleanor Dawson."

He examined the document. "Good heavens! So it is!" Denis cleared his throat. "Not to worry, Miss Davis. We can have it changed at once."

"My last name or the name written here?"

Denis adjusted his collar nervously. "I miss living with my dear friend, Daniel Simmons, and I admire this spirited young woman, Eleanor Davis, and to know they are one in the same…" Trembling, he knelt before her and removed a ring from his pocket. "Will you…? Would you be willing at least to…well, consider it?"

Eleanor crossed her arms. "I most certainly will not consider it!"

Heartbroken, he turned to leave, but Eleanor reached out and caught his wrist. "Denis, I don't need to consider it. I've made my decision already. I love you, and I will be proud to call myself Eleanor Dawson."


	3. Chapter 3

My life flashing before my eyes, more specifically, the story my parents always told me about how they met, is interrupted when I hear the front door open. I'm weak and unable to move, but I'm still conscious. I hear my husband enter the house.

"Lenora?"

He's puzzled. I always come to meet him with open arms.

"Lenora, are you here?"

Please let me be unconscious before he gets the note. Better yet, let me be dead. I can't bear to hear his reaction.

"She must still be at the store."

His footsteps approach the bedroom, and I hear the closet door open. He's hanging up his jacket. He turns to the bed.

"Oh, I see now," he whispers.

That's right, my love. I'm simply taking a nap. Just tiptoe out of the room.

He walks over to me. "Poor dear. All dressed up for a special evening, but resting first. Sleep well, my darling. Tonight we'll go to dinner and perhaps visit the theater." He gently leans down to kiss me. "That's odd." He starts shaking me. "Lenora? Are you alright, sweetheart? Your skin is…" He shakes harder. "Lenora!"

I hear the slight rustle of paper as he picks up the note. He gasps sharply, and his exhalation is nearly a sob. He grasps my hand.

And now darkness. Utter darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

Eleanor Dawson smiled as she held her newborn. Daniel was a beautiful baby, healthy and full of life. As my brother squirmed in Mother's arms, she felt she never wanted anything more.

They were a close family. Father worked in court to bring justice to those exempt from any manner of equality in the eyes of the law, and Mother nurtured Daniel and made house calls or welcomed the ill or injured into the guest rooms of the Dawson residence, for their home was large and spacious. Life was wonderful.

However, life was also filled with innumerable changes. Daniel was playing with blocks, giggling as he munched on provolone, when Mother made the announcement.

"Daniel, how would you like a little brother or sister to play with?"

Daniel was delighted, but that was typical of my brother, always being gracious enough to make one nauseous. Since he was a boy, our parents refused to buy him a doll, so he took one of his toy soldiers, wrapped it in a blanket, and pretended to take care of it like it was his younger sibling.

When I was born, Daniel was always hovering over me and asking Mother endless questions. Baby need bwankie? Baby hungwy? Baby want pway wiff me?

Although exasperated, Mother was also highly amused. "Oh, Denis! He's so nurturing! He'll be an excellent father when our grandchildren are this age!"

He might have been, but I suppose we'll never know since Daniel and his bride were murdered before our eyes hours before their wedding; however, as young children, we had no way of knowing what the future held in store for us.

I grew under Daniel's guidance. He took my hands as I learned to walk. He spent hours talking to me, trying to teach me new words. He tried handing me my own spoon so I could feed myself, laughing when I dumped soup over his head.

I have no memory of my very early years with Daniel. My earliest childhood memories include Simon toddling after me. I liked Simon. I liked taking care of him like he was one of my dolls. I liked the way he ran after me, yelling, "Me be wike sissy!" or came up to me with outstretched arms and demanded, "Sissy hold me!"

There were, of course, disadvantages to being the only girl in a family with two boys. Daniel was always overprotective of me. At times, I felt smothered. Simon, on the other hand, changed as he got older. Sometimes he was my dearest friend; other times, he pulled my braids or put curry powder in my tea.

As I said, Daniel's overbearing courtesy often vexed me to no end, but there were times it was actually helpful to have an older brother who was selfless to a fault. Whenever Mother was busy, Daniel would be the one to help us with scrapes and slivers and other common childhood injuries. He would make us soup and read us stories when we were ill, and even when we were perfectly well, he was always willing to help us with our schoolwork or read us bedtime stories or just offer general advice.

On days when Father was too busy to come home for lunch, Mother would prepare a meal for him and have us take it to the courthouse. Father would give us all a hug and thank us, and Daniel would take us home by way of the park.

Many winter days were spent by the fireplace, Daniel making us hot chocolate and reminding us not to bicker if we wanted any presents on Christmas. In summer, he would take us swimming in what we call temporary lakes, although humans refer to them as puddles.

Of course, his natural refinement tended to make us look bad. Daniel never ate his biscuits before he finished his vegetables. Daniel never stayed up late playing when he ought to get a good night's rest after studying. Daniel never spoke when his mouth was full or spoke to an adult unless he was addressed first. Simon and I didn't care; we were constantly scolded for our bad manners, which Daniel's nauseating propriety contrasted. I suppose that's why even though Daniel was useful at times, Simon and I were never as close to him as we were to each other, but what siblings don't have rivalry?


	5. Chapter 5

"How are you feeling?" A hand gently brushes my hair away from my eyes, which slowly open, and for the first time in many years, I find myself staring into my brother's face.

"Daniel!" I sit up and hug him. "How have you been?!"

"Better now than I've been in my entire life."

I rise to my feet, no longer feeling the anguish of my death.

Margaret Ingham stands beside my older brother, smiling at him tenderly. She takes my hands in hers.

"Nice to see you again, Margaret," I greet.

"We're not ready for you yet, Lenora."

I notice the rest of the Ingham family around her, and I'm thankful that they're all together, reunited once more. I know how much they loved each other when they were alive, and it seems their spirits found each other after death. I pity Florence, for she lives still. She must miss her parents and siblings dreadfully.

Bartholomew Ingham looks nothing like the inebriate I remember. He is once more the gracious gentleman I knew him to be before Ratigan forced him to start drinking. He carries a pitcher of water.

"Thirsty?" I ask.

He chuckles. "It's for Felicia. We used to be good friends, you know."

I nod. "I know. Sorry that didn't work out for you."

"It worked out perfectly. She knew that when I was in my right mind, I would never have wished to live as a drunkard. It was the best thing she ever could have done for me. I'm free now. Free of criminals. Free of alcohol. Free of the grief I felt seeing my family murdered before my eyes."

I roll my eyes. The Inghams always have been a bit strange like that. Who other than an Ingham could see his execution as an act of kindness rather than a former friend's betrayal? If a cat had eaten me, I would make my ghost haunt the creature for all nine of its miserable lives!

"I promised," Bartholomew continues. "I told her every time a raindrop or snowflake touches her nose the way I used to do when she was a kitten, she'll know I'm still with her in spirit. It will be raining soon, and I want to make sure she gets a tap on the nose." He smiles. "I'm so glad she decided to reform her ways. Isn't she the best detective?!"

This is getting ridiculous. No, it's already past that point.

"How do you know about events that happened after your death?" I query.

"The same way you will, Lenora," Bartholomew answers. "See for yourself."

Turning, I see my dead body lying on the bed. My husband cradles my lifeless form in his arms, pleading with it to survive for the sake of our children. It's more than I can bear to watch.

"Take me away from here!" I beg. "This is too much!"

"We're not taking you anywhere," Daniel argues. "We're just here to keep you company for a while."

I can hear my children crying faintly in the other room. They're frightened. I can hear the words, "Mummy! I want Mummy!"

The door bursts open, and David enters my room.

"No!" I exclaim. "David, you must leave now! You are in far greater danger than I am!"

"He can't hear you," Daniel reminds me.

David takes out his stethoscope and gets to work. I roll my eyes. I know I'm just a spirit unattached to my body, a ghost, for lack of better terms, but there must be a way I can warn him. It's too late for me, but if he is kidnapped now, then my death was in vain.

"How is she?" my husband asks.

David sighs. "I'm afraid her heartbeat is rather faint."

I frown. "Heartbeat? But how? I thought I was dead."

"Not quite," Daniel informs me. "You won't last much longer, but you're still barely alive. That's why we can't take you with us yet. You have to be entirely dead to enter the next realm."

If I live through this, I'm going to punch David in the nose for endangering himself when I made it perfectly clear that if he came near me, he risked being abducted, and I did not want him to come to harm.

Hearing a whimper outside my window, I see Toby. I wonder if Basil is with him. Perhaps it goes without saying that Toby's dearest friend, the reformed Felicia, is also present. It seems I'm going to have quite a crowd for my funeral.

Bartholomew walks outside without opening the door. The living have no knowledge of his presence. He approaches Felicia and begins scratching her ears in the way that cats enjoy. She smiles. She believes it's nothing more than the wind ruffling her fur, but somehow, she seems to sense that her friend is with her in spirit.

When the drizzling rain begins, Bartholomew reaches into the pitcher of water he carries and lightly taps Felicia's nose. The worry leaves her eyes, and she is blatantly comforted as the raindrop hits her nose, knowing that the first, and for years, the only, friend she ever had is beside her once more. Even though her former mentor is powerless to change the situation, it's enough for her just to know that he's still doing what he can to look out for her.

"Do the living ever see us?" I ask Daniel.

He thinks a moment. "Well, I won't say it never happens, but it is extremely rare."

David sits beside my soon-to-be corpse and takes my hand. He's done all he can to save my life; he just arrived too late to be of any service.

Daniel sighs sadly. "Lenora, go to him."

Even though I know it's no use since he can't hear me, I wander over to David and rest my hands on his shoulders. "It's alright. I know you did your best for me. Now please, David, you must go! You have to leave before you too are killed!"

As usual, he doesn't listen. He opens his black bag, rummaging through it to see if there's something he hasn't thought to try. I wonder if all brothers are so stubborn.


	6. Chapter 6

I'll never forget the day I came home from school and Mother called me over to her, saying she had wonderful news. She gently placed my hands on her waist, which moved on its own.

"That's your new baby brother or sister," she explained.

A sister! A sister! After growing up with two brothers, I'd finally have a baby sister! We could play dress up and princesses and tea parties. When we got older, we could stay up late and share secrets about boys we admired. We could complain about having to be proper ladies and dare each other to show our ankles.

As Mother's slender figure became more and more swollen, I found my impatience growing, wondering if my little sister would look anything like me. After what seemed like eons, the day arrived when I got home from school, and Mother called me to her room. I immediately noticed the small form asleep in her arms.

"You want to hold him, Lenora?" she asked.

Him? HIM?! I had specifically wanted a baby sister, not another brother! I already had two! However, I held out my arms. The baby, who was chubbier than any newborn I had ever held, immediately began crying.

"He hates me!" I complained.

Daniel took the little pest. "He doesn't hate you, Lenora. He just wants you to hold him a different way. See? He's settling down already."

That was the beginning of a lifetime of David hating me but loving Daniel. When Daniel rocked David, the baby would cuddle up to his shoulder and fall asleep. When I rocked him, he'd throw up on me. When Daniel helped Mother give David a bath, David would giggle and splash. When I tried it…well, I won't say what David did, but I will say I needed to change my dress immediately.

Things only got worse as David got older. Daniel could keep him entertained with a good book, but when I tried reading to him, David was easily distracted and quickly got bored. My only comfort was that David didn't seem to care for Simon either. We were officially a house divided: David and Daniel vs. Lenora and Simon.

Many rodents have innumerable ideas about careers they want to try. It is very common for children, and even adults, to change their minds myriads of times before settling into a job they enjoy. However, David never had that problem. From an early age, he knew he wanted to practice medicine. He was always rummaging through Mother's medical supplies, giggling when he found something he could use against us. David was forever trying to use Mother's stethoscope to hear our heartbeats or grabbing bandages to try wrapping around our hands and feet.

The only use I had for David was when Mother told me to clean my room. I would wrap my baby brother's hands and knees in wet rags and have him crawl around on the floor or wherever else I wanted him to go. If I could coax him under my bed, he usually did a good job of dusting, but he often sneezed or bumped his head.

I suppose you could say I was David's first patient. I had a backache one day, and when Simon suggested I put something on it, I sarcastically demanded to know what I was supposed to use, the baby? Simon thought that idea sounded interesting so he had me lie down and placed David on my back.

The relief was immediate. The warmth of the small body felt good against my spine. However, the little pest immediately began trying to pull my hair and bite my ears.

Even as a baby, David was pudgy. I always called him "Hippo," a combination of "Hippocrates" and "hippopotamus." He loved it until the day he was old enough to find out what a hippopotamus actually was; then he despised the nickname for the rest of his life, not that I cared. Simon also thought my name for David was clever, so he began using it; however, in one way, he was kinder than I was.

"If you ever become a doctor," Simon always remarked, "then I suppose I can refer to you as Dr. Hippo."

Surprisingly, David didn't find much consolation in that. He always loved being called "Doctor" though. Sometimes when Daniel wasn't feeling well or had scraped a knee, Mother would let David help by bringing supplies from her medical bag or patting Daniel's hand.

"West now," David would say.

Daniel would smile. "Very well, Doctor. I'll be sure to get my rest."

David's grin would be too big for his face.

Looking back, I suppose that's one of the reasons he took it so hard when Daniel died before our eyes. All those times helping Mother with basic first-aid and all those classes at medical school, and David couldn't help Daniel the one time it truly mattered.

None of us blame him, of course. We all went out of our way to make that clear. There was nothing anyone could have done. The bullet in his heart ended his life far too abruptly.


	7. Chapter 7

I blink for only a moment, and the next thing I know, I'm lying on my bed. My eyes are shut, and I feel awful.

"Nora?" My younger sister, Meta, squeezes my hand. "Can you hear me?"

How'd she get in my room?

My eyes flutter open just long enough to see a blurry image of Corine, my other sister, standing by my bed as well. I think I see Basil, but the room spins, and I instantly have to shut my eyes again.

I feel a slight tugging at my sleeve, and I try to brush it away, but I'm too weak to raise my hand.

"It's alright, Nora," Meta assures me. "David's just helping you get better."

He does his job so well that I barely notice the hypodermic, but I make a mental note to complain about it later. After all these years, he'd be disappointed if I didn't fuss every time he tried to doctor me.

"Can you open your mouth, Nora?"

I barely manage; Meta has to push on my chin to lower my jaw a little more. David pours something into my mouth, lightly pressing my throat to make sure I swallow. Why am I being forced to choke down this vile concoction only seconds after another began making its way through my veins? Couldn't David have just chosen one or the other instead of forcing me to tolerate both?

Corine places a cool cloth on my head. "You know she's going to kill you when she's back on her feet. She hates being called Nora."

Meta chuckles. "I know. It will give her more of a fighting spirit. She'll get well sooner."

"Mrs. Stafford," Basil begins, "you may rest assured that the fiends who attempted to bring about your demise are now in the custody of the law. They were incarcerated this very afternoon. Your brother Dawson is in no danger."

I manage a nod.

"Did you see that?" Corine asks. "She's responding to you, Mr. Basil."

David's sigh of relief is weary. He's obviously had quite the battle to save my life, a battle he was certain he would lose.

They owe me an explanation of how they found the criminals and why my sisters are standing beside my bed, but right now, I don't think I would be able to process the story. They can tell me later.

I suppose I will eventually be grateful to be alive, but the effects of the poison linger, and I'm suffering terribly.

I wonder about Daniel and the Ingham family. Did I truly see them in the afterlife, or was my brain merely clouded from the toxin?

My husband kisses the top of my head. "My love, do you think you'll be well enough to eat a little broth?"

I'm getting tired of this. Summoning all my strength, I manage to sit up.

"For pity's sake!" I exclaim. "How many rodents does it take to administer a blasted antidote?! While you're all in here, who's cooking?"

"That would be Simon," Corine explains, smiling. "It's good to have you back, Lenora."

David is already placing pillows behind me to help prop me up. He places a stethoscope on my back and instructs me to breathe. I humor him, but I make sure to roll my eyes. I'm alive, so obviously, my heart and lungs are functioning.

"You're going to be alright, Lenora," he assures me. "Just rest now."

"David…"

This isn't the first time he's saved my life, although I keep hoping each time will be the last. It's humiliating to owe your life to a useless little pest, although he did turn out to be a good mouse once he got past childhood. I still say there ought to be laws prohibiting physicians from tending family members. Perhaps someday there will be. Who knows?

What is there for me to do besides punch David in the nose?

"I told you not to endanger yourself for my sake, idiot!"

He rubs his nose, and I sink into the pillows behind my back, preparing myself to deal with Simon. I'll deal with him later. For once in my life, I actually like David's suggestion. I rest.


End file.
